Left to Fate
by Cartman Crapped Treasure
Summary: After an unfortunate street racing accident Kyle's life and those around him change forever
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park :(**

It all started with a street race. Kyle Broflovski had gotten into this dangerous sport as a means to pay for his college education. With the average purse at ten grand-per-race, who wouldn't do it? This race in particular would be a pretty tricky one. Kyle opened his car door, strapped himself in with his seatbelt of his late 90's Honda Civic, started the ignition and waited for the signal to go. He needed to win this one badly. The purse was a cool 20,000.

"See you at the finish line, doucher!" a dark-haired boy taunted while giving him the finger.

"Tell your mom, I'll be waiting for her there, Craig!" Kyle teased.

The horn sounded and the drivers were off with the smell of burning rubber and the sound of screeching tires. Metal crashed into metal when Craig slammed into Kyle trying to go through the first hairpin turn leading to Hell's Pass. This proved to no avail when Kyle slammed back and got past him.

Once around the hairpin turn Kyle gassed the Civic and zoomed ahead. He was the race leader, for now. He knew he couldn't get too cocky. Behind him were six other drivers just as eager for the purse as he was.

Due to his strategic driving Kyle had quite some distance between him and the second driver. Instead of slowing down slightly he sped up to increase this gap. While doing so he hit a patch of black ice. His car spun out of control, mostly due to his excessive speed. He frantically cranked his steering wheel to avoid going off to the edge of the road. He failed and his car hurled off the side, tumbling like a Slinky down a staircase. Probably by the second roll he was unconscious. The car continued the tumble down to the canyon one thousand feet below, finally coming to rest at the trunk of a tree.

Craig bit his lip in concentration. He knew this road was slick in the winter. He only slowed down when he saw a destroyed K-rail, but not out of curiosity caution instead. He proceeded to turn down the steep grade. He knew he couldn't catch up to Kyle, but second place was better than third. Finally after an hour of excruciating driving he crossed the finish line where several of his classmates were waiting.

"Where is that pillow-biter?" asked Craig as he flipped Stan off.

"Who are you talking about?"

"Kyle, dips hit. He was in front of me. He got first."

"I don't know what you're talking about, dude," said Stan in worry. "You got first."

"Aw, fuck, fuckity, fuck!" screamed Craig. "He must have gone off! The K-rail was broken! It was him! Get in my car, we have to find him!"

The rest of the group scrambled to get in their cars to go find Kyle. Within two minutes they all vacated the area.

"Cassandra, leave him!" hissed a male voice.

"I can't Charles! He's going to die!!" Cassandra shrieked back at him with tears streaming down her face.

"Fine. Your compassion is going to be the death of you, sister." replied Charles as he leaned in to the mangled car after tearing apart the door to undo the seatbelt.

After the seatbelt was deployed Charles pulled out a red-headed teenaged boy. He had several lacerations to his face, all bleeding profusely. Both his chin and forehead were split open and would require stitches. In addition to that he had a broken leg and most likely a few broken ribs. Under his shirt was what looked like a giant bruise, but was actually the result of internal bleeding.

"Make it fast, Cassandra! His friends are on their way!" shrieked Charles as he lay the redhead onto the forest floor.

Cassandra leaned over the limp body, opened her mouth and sunk her fangs into the side of his neck and began to draw his blood.

"That's enough, we've got to go! People will be here soon." dictated Charles.

"We have to take him with us! We can't leave him here with bite marks in his neck! That will draw suspicion, brother!"

"What do you think we should do then? Take him with us? Father will be furious!" combated Charles.

"He said himself we need to increase numbers in the clan. We have to take him!"

"Fine, I'll carry him on my back!"

Charles picked up Kyle's limp body and were gone only a few minutes before the South Park Gang arrived.

Stan was the first to find the car and sprinted as fast as his legs could possible carry him to the mangled vessel that had once transported his friend. He stood above the ravine on a piece of earth that overhung above the crash site.

"Craig, guys I found the car!" he yelled.

Moments later the rest of the search party was at the scene. Soon everyone frantically crawled down trying to get to their injured friend.

"Kyle, Kyle!" screeched Stan as he approached the driver's side of the car.

Much to his disappointment and fear the car was empty and covered with a significant amount of blood. Usually when in stress Stan would pinch the bridge of his nose, but this was a different circumstance. He pulled his bangs down and fell to his knees feeling the bile rise up his throat, ready to vacate. Right as Craig made it down the ravine Stan up-chucked the contents in his stomach and began to bawl.

"He's not in there, Craig. He's not in there."

"Staaan, what's the matter?" asked Wendy Testaburger, Stan's on-and-of girlfriend since fourth grade.

"He's not in the fucking car! He's dead, he's dead." he sobbed.

Wendy began to rub his back soothingly, thinking it would help.

"Don't fucking touch me!" roared Stan. "KYLE!! Where the fuck are you?!"

Craig just sat himself upon a dead stump and placed his hands over his face. This was not done to hide tears, but because of the worry he wouldn't admit he had.

--

**A/N: So, tell me what you think? Is it good?**


	2. Chapter 2

Pain. Searing, unimaginably excruciating pain. This is all I could feel when I awoke from unconsciousness. I sat up to take in my environment, but couldn't sit more than a quarter of the way up. I clenched my teeth in frustration, but couldn't because of the gag in my mouth. I'd seen enough _Saw_ movies to know that this was not the best of situations to be in. The room was pitch black, probably for the better. Who knows what horrid things could be in here. I tried with all my strength to free myself from the bindings, to no avail. A cold hand came into contact with my skin, and pulled out my gag.

"Keep still, the pain will pass shortly. The worst part is over." a feminine soothing voice reassured me.

"I don't want to die. Why are you doing this to me?" I asked hoarsely.

"I'm not going to kill you. I'm saving you. You're lucky I found you when I did, that car accident would have killed you."

Now I was confused. She had me strapped to a table and told me she was saving me? I don't think so. Who would strap a person they're "supposedly" saving to a table and let them suffer? I hate to steal Stan's phrase, but this shit right here is getting pretty fucked up and fast.

"Fine, if you're saving me why isn't my broken leg in a cast? And why am I not in a hospital? And thirdly, where the fuck am I?" I shrieked in exasperation.

"All of that will be explained to you shortly. Here, open your mouth and drink this. Don't ask me what it is, because I'm not going to tell you." she said as she pulled out a cup.

"I'm not drinking that."

"Do you want to make me get my brother? He's not exactly thrilled you're here, and he is nowhere near as kind as I am. Either drink this or he'll make you drink it."

I opened my mouth to drink the liquid. Sure, I had no idea what it was, but what choice did I have. I'm not gonna lie, the stuff tasted pretty damn good. The best part of it was it took the edge off of my pain.

"There, that wasn't so difficult, was it?" she asked, took the cup, and walked toward the door.

"Bitch." I muttered under my breath.

"I'm the bitch who's saving your ass. If I were you I'd keep my mouth shut." she said sternly and slammed the door shut.

________________________________________________________________________

"Ok guys, Kyle has been missing for three days now. We need to find him, and we need to find him fast." Stan addressed a group of peers. "Kyle can't "sleep over at Kenny's house" forever."

"Not to be rude, but why should I give a shit about that ginger Jew rat? All he does is spread his Jew germs around town." he was then hit several times. "Ay, Kenny that's a bad Kenny!"

"This isn't funny Cartman!" Stan screamed. "Do I have to remind you how boring your life was when he moved to San Francisco? If I were you I'd keep your fat, fucking mouth shut!"

"God damn, Stan, you really need to get all that sand out of your vagina. I bet South Park could have its own beach with how much is up yours."

"Stan's right, Fatass. If we don't find him soon, then all of our moms are find out about our illegal hobby." Craig butted in. "I suggest we split up into groups of five and check everywhere in that ravine."

"Ok, so split up and meet back here at six. That gives us four hours. Each of you take a flare gun. If you find him, then fire it. The rest of us will join you." Informed Stan as Cartman raised his hand. "Yes, Cartman?"

"If we find his dead body, covered with maggots, and decomposing, does that count as finding him?"

At this point Kenny became so outraged he pulled his hood off. "Dude, that's not fucking cool! We're all worried about Kyle. You won't admit it, but you are too. If you make one more comment like that I'll go Old Mexican Guerilla Style on you!" a pissed off Kenny stated.

"What the fuck is Old Mexican Guerilla Style?"

"That's when I take you up to a tree, tie a rope around your balls, and push you off. Not only will your balls be ripped off, but you'll bleed to death! All it takes is one more comment. I dare you fat boy." Silence. "That's what I thought, fuckwit!" 

All the boys were eyeing Kenny in total shock with their mouths wide open and in fear of what their friend could possibly imagine doing.

"Ok, so let's break into groups of five and head out. Remember, back here at six."


End file.
